


Monster is a Relative Term

by roboticdragons



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Body Horror, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Henry Saves Everyone AU, and has a massive house apparently, and that means there are no actual toons, but only a little bit for once, first time ive had to use that tag, henry is 200 percent done, lets see if i can change that in another chapter, somehow this is almost completely without angst, you cant save everyone and still have living toons sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roboticdragons/pseuds/roboticdragons
Summary: Henry's escaped the studio with a gaggle of traumatised co-workers in tow, all of which are now not hell-bent on seeing him dead. Well, maybe Sammy, but that's just his personality.---------------------------------------------------------------A Henry Saves Everyone AU because I am absolute trash for those sorts of stories.





	1. Coffee Machines

**Author's Note:**

> So, another multi-chapter, this time without a set goal. Yeah, this probably won't have one overarching plot, it's just me getting to write these characters and seeing whether or not I can write fluff and humour. Keep in mind that when it comes to writing, angst is my usual preference, so this writing style may be a bit awkward as I'm still getting used to it. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, I feel like I need to add something about this. In this AU Joey was manipulated by a demon almost as soon as he started getting interested in dark magic, so stuff like turning Norman into the Projectionist wasn't what he wanted. I'm not excusing Joey's actions in canon, the situation is just slightly different.

Henry was not an early riser. He’d never been one, and back when things were simple Joey had endlessly lectured him on the benefits of getting up early. Joey had always agreed with the phrase ‘the early bird gets the worm’, and that phrase quickly became Henry’s most hated. Why should he get up at hell ‘o’clock just to get some stupid worm? Now things weren’t as simple, and Henry expected to be the first up, at least today. What with the others’ emotional and physical exhaustion and completely screwed up internal clocks. At the late-ish time of 9:30 Henry stumbled downstairs, sans glasses and will to get up that morning. He just need to get caffeine and blindly make his way back upstairs. Somehow, he found the light switch and flicked it on.

In the kitchen stood a demon. A 7ft tall, ink-dripping, nightmare-inducing demon with sickle-like claws that could probably slice through flesh like tissue paper.

Said demon was trying and failing to use its previously described claws to operate a coffee machine.

Henry squinted through his blurry vision at the figure in his kitchen, then squinted at the worn-down coffee maker. Then squinted up towards the ceiling, asking whatever powers were out there to describe exactly how his life ended up like this. He sighed and addressed the monster in his kitchen. “Joey, do you need any help with that?”

The demon’s head whipped around 180° with its body staying still, creating a pose that belonged in a horror movie. Its face was almost completely covered with ink, leaving only a distorted grin. “Henry!” The thing faux-whispered back. “You’re up this early?” Joey’s voice sounded a bit like his old voice, a bit like Bendy’s voice and a bit like the screaming of the damned. None of those sounds really lended themselves to any sort of whisper, faux or not, and the result was not nice on the ears.

“Why are you whispering? And yes, I am up. Kind of.”

“Wow! You really did take my advice. You know, ‘bout the bird and the- “

“Worm. Yes. I know.” The feeling of questioning where his life had gone doubled. He was discussing popular phrases with a demon who was also his ex-best friend. And this discussion began over coffee.

“And I’m whisperin’ cause I don’t wanna wake the others!” Henry definitely remembered Joey not having a New York-ish accent prior to the studio going to literal hell. Seems like it was another side effect of becoming ‘Bendy’.

“Joey, it’s only half-nine. Everyone was exhausted last night, no one will be up.”

Messing around with demons had somehow led to the laws of cartoons having more influence on this world, especially where the newly formed cartoons were. I.E, Henry’s house. So maybe cartoon logic was the reason that as soon as Henry finished speaking two figures appeared in the kitchen doorway, rubbing their eyes and-

Well, one of them was rubbing their eyes. The other couldn’t as they had no face and by extension no eyes. Instead they rubbed at ink stuck to the lens of an old projector and let out tired static, if static could sound tired. The other person was shorter and wore only a pair of suspenders (Henry really needed to talk to him about putting on some goddamn clothes) and dripped ink all over Henry’s clean tiles. This ink spread and joined the pool already created by Joey’s ink, and Henry mentally noted to buy a surplus of whatever cleaning products cleaned ink. Would potent acetone cause any lasting damage to the floor?

Sammy walked in without a word and turned the coffee machine on. Joey - still in neck-snapping horror movie pose – let out a quiet deranged giggle. “Thanks Sambo!”

If Sammy still had veins he was pretty sure they’d be popping; even as a malformed ink demon Joey was still the most insufferable human being on the planet. He grabbed two cups, glanced back at Norman, and seemed to realise something before putting the other mug back. The button was pressed and the four men lapsed into a painful silence, broken only by quiet whirring coming from Norman’s head.

This situation was oddly similar to moments back when the studio was still running. Until Sammy grabbed his mug full of steaming hot coffee, chugged it all in one go, looked directly at Henry and flatly declared, “I can’t feel pain.”. Then he dropped the mug in the sink and walked off, Norman hot on his heels.

Joey was eyeing the coffee pot, ever-present grin growing a little bit wider.

“Joey, **no**.”

“But if it won’t _hurt_ me, then why can’t I just drink it all?”

“Just because it’s painless doesn’t mean you won’t get **third-degree burns** from it!”


	2. Christmas!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you had a good time. This isn't edited, I rushed it to get it out in the holiday season. Enjoy!

This was the group’s first Christmas since escaping the studio. Inside the studio there weren’t any holidays, apart from the several hundred special days Sammy named as ‘Bendy days’. Any attempt to bring this up post-studio would result in Sammy holing himself up in his room all day, and that in turn made Norman annoyed. Having a scrawny ink man annoyed at you was ok, but having an almost 7ft tall projector monster annoyed at you has more of a chance of sending you to the emergency room. No one wants that at Christmas. Except Joey, but a lot of what Joey wanted wasn’t ‘normal’ or ‘morally right’.

Henry didn’t have much family left that liked him, and even if he did he was sure they would have some strong opinions on his new roommates. I mean, Joey was treating Henry like his boyfriend, none of his grouchy relatives would be ok with that! The ink thing might have put them off too.

So Christmas was just an affair between Henry’s new ‘friends’ (term used loosely). The present giving part of it was difficult as no one except Henry could go outside the house. The religious part of it wasn’t really that important; Grant was Jewish, most of them were made of demonic ink, Joey was a literal demon and Sammy had been put off religion for life after being released from the prophet mindset.

There was one solution to the inability to get presents; the magic of online shopping. Each person picked out presents they wanted to get for another person, and that inheritance Henry got was really coming in handy. When the big day rolled around there was a neat little pile of presents under the tree, some of them plastered with Bendy stickers. You can guess who wrapped those.

There was a strict rule of not opening presents before Christmas dinner, the sort of rule that no one really likes but you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s hardwired into the Christmas schedule. All morning Susie, Allison and Henry were busy in the kitchen, making good smells waft out and torture the others waiting. It was only when they all sat down that Henry realised there would be some _issues_ with eating the feast.

Norman didn’t have a mouth. Grant had one stitched up mouth and one on his head that was just a small hole with teeth. Thomas did kind of have a mouth but it was a pain getting his head to stay still long enough to get the food in. But they had already sat down at the table. Oh god. They couldn’t just get back up and leave. But eventually one of them would realise that Henry The Grumpy Douche forgot eating required certain physical aspects. Christmas was ruined.

Norman, Grant and Thomas were fully aware of their situation, and just wanted to sit down with friends. It was a little weird when Henry set a plate laden with food in front of them, but Norman was sure there were no ill intentions. Even though it was fairly obvious he wouldn’t be eating anything.

‘Silence is the best compliment’ is true for a lot of meals. Not for Christmas dinner, as everyone was waiting to mention the mouthless elephant in the room. Joey spoke up, and in that lovely, atrocious way only Joey could deliver at Christmas, cheerfully said “Norman! Are you ok? _You’ve hardly touched ya food!_ ”

Henry felt the gods of this world go away for a bit and get some buttered popcorn, because a show **about to go down**. No one said anything. No one dared. What do you say to something like that? Brush it off? (‘Oh, you know what Joey’s like). Apologise? (‘I’m so sorry, he’s part demon’). Play along with the joke and be a total asshole? (‘Yeah, you’ve barely said anything either!’).

Norman decided that if anyone was going to be taking charge of this situation he was. Slowly, drawing out every moment for maximum dramatic and comedic effect, he lifted one inky hand up and slammed it down on his plate. Parsnips flew through the air. Turkey fell to the floor. The weary cooks looked on in horror as part of their meal was abandoned on the ground.

The tension was thick and inky between Joey and Norman. “ _Well played…_ ” whispered Joey, shoving a leg of turkey in his mouth. That made the sound pretty muffled, and sounding more like “ _Whelf pphalyed…_ ”, but the message was still vaguely clear.

After the showdown at the dinner table it was present opening time, and boy oh boy was there some cheesy moments. The sort of stuff you’d see on **_NON-SPECIFIC CHILDREN’S CHANNEL_** specials, with more demons. Susie got Joey a drawing pad. Henry got Wally a vintage audio cassette player, just like old times. Henry got several variations of ‘World’s Best Dad’ mugs.

Norman presented Sammy with several jazz records, ones he knew Sammy liked. How sweet. If this was a funny slice of life anime Sammy would be going into tsundere mode and blushing profusely before kissing Norman on the nose, but he was a grown man, had no blood and could see very clearly that Norman didn’t have a nose to kiss.

All in all, thought Henry while sipping hot cocoa and relaxing on the couch, it was a good Christmas. The others had gone up to bed but Joey was curled up like a large demonic cat at Henry’s side.

Adorable. Profoundly disturbing out of context, but adorable.


	3. More Wacky Shenanigans With Joey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has a very different tone from the previous chapters. It's got a lot of angst and centres of Joey, but the humour and hjinks will come back next chapter! Also, I'm always open to ideas for future chapters. Enjoy!

Henry, like any other cautiously optimistic person, had assumed that burning the ink machine down would completely get rid of its grip on the employees’ minds. He didn’t expect their normal bodies back, that change was _slightly_ harder to reverse, but having them not be insane would be a nice break. Christmas passed without any successful murders, sleeping arrangements were slowly getting more tolerable, and Joey was even starting to become less of a horrible person, as impossible as that seemed.

However, life had a nasty habit of metaphorically kicking Henry where it hurt. So really, how much of a surprise was it when, one morning, Joey began acting…weird. The bad kind of weird, not the Joey kind of weird with first degree burns and hot beverages (come to think of it, that may also be a bad kind of weird), but the kind where he was oddly quiet, standing alone in the living room. Getting ink all over Henry’s carpet.

Making a note to get more fabric cleaner, Henry slowly approached his former friend. When Joey was acting like Joey it was oddly easy to dismiss the demonic appearance, but now…Henry was uncomfortably aware of the couple of feet Joey had on him. It didn’t help that an aura of unease radiated off him like a bad odour. To sum it up, Henry was kind of scared of him, despite the hijinks and shenanigans they got into.

Henry cautiously approached Joey, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of ink soaking into his socks. As he got nearer Joey tilted his head up to look, but it was impossible to read his expression. Nothing but a stretched, false smile, not fit for the uncomfortable atmosphere. “Joey?” Henry spoke softly. It was similar to simpler days before everything had gone Terribly Wrong in So Many Ways. On nights when Joey’s leg had been hurting too much for him to bear, Henry would calm him down, quietly sit with him through painful times. Now, it seemed, he would have to perform the same role. “Joey, is…is anything wrong?”

The smile didn’t go away. If anything, it widened, and Joey shook his head. Ink drops flew everywhere, which would be _fantastic_ for Henry’s already ruined carpet and clothes. “Henry, I’m fine! Really, do ya think I’m mopin or somethin?” Henry absolutely thought Joey was moping ‘or somethin’, but didn’t respond. An awkward silence lay between them.

“Well, I might be feelin a bit tired, but I just need some more sleep! I-In fact, I’m gonna go to bed. Right now. See ya!”

It was 10 in the morning and Joey had never been one to need more than, say, 2 hours of sleep. Even before he became a demon. Henry was suspicious as Joey hurriedly limped off. Something was _definitely_ up…and past fights aside Joey was still kind of, maybe his friend. He needed to see what was bothering him.

\----------------------------------------

Joey ignored the annoyed shouts from Sammy – someone who refused to even think about getting out of bed before 10:30 – as he stomped upstairs, heading towards the bedroom he shared with Henry. Running away from an uncomfortable conversation made him feel like a stroppy teenager, but there were some situations where the only option is to run.

‘ ** _He can run…he can run all he likes. But the_ traitor _won’t make it out of here alive._** ’

Thoughts pushed their way to the front of his mind, Bad Thoughts that should have been left behind. Unfortunately, the worst thoughts are the ones that refuse to be pushed back. They seep out of the damaged cracks in minds like a poison gas, suffocating.

‘ ** _Suffocating, he couldn’t breathe there was liquid in his eyes in his mouth in his lungs. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t walk, but he was still alive. Why?_** ’

Everyone has nightmares. He couldn’t talk to anyone about the nightmares, for the simple fact that everyone has them. It’s hard to ignore static screaming erupting from Sammy and Norman’s room and the panicked comforts from Sammy trying to calm him down. It’s hard to miss seeing a trembling Wally mutter to Henry early in the morning, venting out the latest bad dream about being ripped open. And it’s _very_ hard brushing off the hateful looks almost everyone directed at him when he’d done something particularly frustrating. The thing is, they meant those looks to be about small events, the little ‘oh, it’s just Joey being Joey’ moments, but he could see the deeper grudges beneath them.

He knew he set off the domino chain that led to him being possessed. He can think of a million excuses, the demon pushed Grant and Thomas and Shawn into the Machine, the demon mutilated Norman. But the demon didn’t make him gain an interest in the satanic arts. That was him, all him, and whether or not he intended to turn his employees into monsters, none of this would have happened if he hadn’t performed that ritual. If it wasn’t for that, the demon wouldn’t have been able to sink its claws into his mind.

‘ ** _Claws poised to strike, to sever that_ traitor’s _head from his body.’_**

Joey shuddered and collapsed onto his bed, finally reaching the bedroom. The nightmare from the previous night was still fresh and making him hurt. It was like a raw wound dripping blood and ink. And it wouldn’t go away.

“Joey, you can’t just run away whenever someone asks how you’re doing.”

Oh great. Now Henry’s come up to comfort him. He didn’t understand that the nightmares Joey had aren’t ones he can remedy the same way as the others’. The bed sunk slightly, dipping under Henry’s weight. Joey prepared himself for the questions, but instead Henry just…sat there. Next to him. Not saying anything, not trying to comfort him. He just sat there and waited. Joey sat there and broke.

“I-It’s just t-that I keep on dreaming ‘bout that p-place…and I keep thinking a-a-about what I did to you and the…and the others, and…and…”

Joey trailed off. He’d just spilled his guts to his ex-friend, inky tears and all. Henry took a breath like he was preparing to say something, but stopped.

This was…this was kind of better than some dramatic speech about how ‘it’s not your fault’ and ‘the past is in the past’. It was his fault, that was the problem. But there was still time to redeem himself. And if he had Henry with him to help him through, then maybe the road to redemption would be a fun one.

“Henry?” Sammy poked his head into the bedroom. “Norman accidently got plugged into the mains and now he’s acting like he has a sugar high.”

And maybe the road ahead would be one where they spent 20 minutes trying to calm down an overexcited projector man. Either way, lots and lots of comedic potential.

And really, isn’t that what cartoons like Bendy are for?

 


	4. Demonic Sleepovers Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! It was fun writing this chapter, but I've decided to split it up into two parts. I just felt like I wanted to keep the chapter lengths relatively the same. Also, does anyone have any suggestions for a name for this au? I've been developing it a bit more, and though I'm keeping Monster is a Relative Term as the name of this fic, it's be nice to have a name to refer to the whole au by. Oh, and to anyone who read Bright Lights and Dark Puddles and was sad at the ending: this au is kind of a good ending to that fic, where Norman's hearing and everyone's sanity is restored. So they get to be happy in at least one universe!
> 
> I'm always open to suggestions for both this au and general BatIM. Enjoy!

Driving back from the studio felt almost like a dream. A really, really surreal and vaguely frightening dream, the kind that makes you regret eating a literal ton of cheese before going to bed.

“Are we there yet?”  
“No, Joey.”  
“…” Blissful silence for a moment.  
“Now?”

Henry swivelled round, leaving an alarmed Norman suddenly in charge of making the car not crash and kill them all. “Joey, we’ll be **there** when we **get there**!” Norman let out relieved static when Henry turned back round and took the wheel from him. Susie spoke up, eager to diffuse the tense atmosphere created by Henry’s outburst.

“So, uh, Henry…what’s your house like?”  
“Not too big, but it’ll fit all of us. It’s far from the city too, so you shouldn’t worry ‘bout anyone seeing you. There’s three bedrooms, and…uh…”

Henry trailed off, feeling at least two glares burning into his back.

“Sorry, Henry? Did you say _three_ bedrooms?” There was Allison’s voice. “You might not’ve noticed but there are _nine_ people in the car. Ten if you count me and Susie as separate, I guess.”  
“Eleven if you count the searcher in the trunk.”

Everyone paused for a second, hearing a quiet moan coming from the back of the car.

“ _Henry_?” If Allison didn’t sound annoyed before, she really sounded peeved now. “ _Why, exactly is there a searcher in the back_?”  
“I mean, it’s a swollen one…and it didn’t attack me?”  
“Fine. _Fine_. So back to the original question, _where are we going to sleep_?”  
“Some of us can just…share rooms?” Henry offered, quickly adding, “And you can choose who you room with.”

Allison settled back into the car seat and looked around her, seemingly analysing everyone, finding the least annoying to share a room with. Finally she reached a decision, and grabbed Wally’s arm. “Okay then, I choose Wally!” Her voice slipped from Allison’s deeper tones to Susie’s higher and more cheerful southern voice. “You’re okay with that, right honey?” Wally nodded slowly, looking at Henry with a mixture of fear and confusion.

“If Alice – oh hush, it’s easier referring to both of you as Alice – if Alice gets to choose Wally, then I choose Norman. I refuse to room with… _Joey_.” Sammy said Joey’s name like it was something disgusting, a mouldy Thing you’d find on the side of the street and hurriedly walk past without sparing it too much attention. Incidentally, that was the best strategy to deal with Joey as well.

Norman seemed happy with that, screeching in a cheerful tone. That left Shawn, Grant, Thomas, Joey and Henry. And the unnamed searcher quietly moaning in the trunk. “We, uhh,” Thomas spoke up, trying to keep his hanging head still. “Me an’ Shawn an’ Grant, we can just sleep ‘n the livin room or somethin?” He didn’t mention the reasoning for this, but Henry had a feeling it was because of their new bodies’ size. Though they’d be hard pressed to admit that.

Joey leaned into the front of the car and smiled even wider at Henry. “Looks like we’ll take the last room then!” Henry looked past Joey at Norman, who gave a sympathetic scream.

Henry had shared a room with Joey before, back in college when Joey wasn’t (physically) a demon. Back then Henry was young, stupid, and willing to stay up all night discussing all manners of subjects with Joey, but now he was old, tired, and really **not** looking forward to sleeping in the same room with him. Being near him when he wasn’t trying to get to sleep was annoying enough!

\----------------------------------------

As it turned out, Henry’s fears were entirely justified. At this point he was honestly wondering whether or not Joey even needed sleep anymore, cause he was sure as hell not in a rush to doze off. Luckily the bedroom they’d chosen had two beds, but even so Joey’s close proximity to Henry made even the smallest comment annoying. Most of the topics were the usual ‘do you think horses have dreams’ and ‘if we hooked a car battery up to Norman would his light shine really really bright or just explode’, but some of them got…weirder. On some nights Joey would talk about the different rituals he found out about, and what they entailed. Henry occasionally tried to bring other subjects up, if Joey just wasn’t shutting up he might as well attempt to sort out the many, many issues with their ‘friendship’.

But those seemed to be the only topics Joey _wouldn’t_ talk about. There was one time Henry managed to start a quiet conversation about what happened in the studio. Joey talked about what happened right after Everything Went Wrong, but refused to say anything else after Henry asked exactly **how** Joey was turned into an amalgamation of Bendy.

And then there was the taboo topic of immortality -- the fact that the ex-employees were kind of, maybe immortal, and Henry definitely absolutely wasn’t. Joey had proved he couldn’t die after the laundry detergent incident. Henry knew the topic was a touchy one for Joey; after all, his obsession with not dying had led to summoning the demon who possessed him. But he should at least **acknowledge** it!

Joey was possibly the worst person to room with, and it made Henry wonder. How were the others doing with their situations?


	5. Demonic Sleepovers Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait guys! I've been focused on other AUs, and I can't promise frequent updates from now on either. But hey, at least I've got a chapter now! Enjoy!
> 
> As always, I'm taking prompts on my tumblr, thefandomhoardingdragon.tumblr.com , for this AU and general BATIM.

Things in the other rooms were better – basically any conceivable situation was better than rooming with Joey – but still not great. Susie and Wally had an awkward relationship. Susie certainly liked Wally, he had been and currently was a good guy, and almost annoyingly friendly. There was a slight hurdle in their running track to friendship, however. That one time where Susie had continuously murdered him for 20 years, give or take. There was the same 400-foot-tall hurdle between Susie and Thomas, Grant and Shawn, and they weren’t as partial to the phrase ‘forgive and forget’. There really aren’t any good ways to apologise for that. It’s hard to find cards reading ‘Sorry I tortured you, disembowelled you then brought you back to life for my own personal gain’. Joey could empathise, as he was still searching for the shorter but just as sweet ‘Sorry I became a Satanist’ card to present to Henry.

Trying to get to sleep in Wally and Alice’s room was almost the exact opposite of Henry and Joey’s; complete, awful silence and the occasional snore from Alice. Wally made almost no noise. He could talk, but seemed to prefer not to. Maybe it was the voice change? But, as with every room-share, there were sometimes long (often one-sided) deep conversations of deep-rooted fears and asking if the other person really liked you, or whether they had already fallen asleep halfway through describing why you cry when you see squids. So that relationship was as broken as Joey’s ability to consider other people’s feelings, but still getting better.

A considerably healthier relationship between roommates was between Norman and Sammy. For some reason they just got along really well. Maybe it was the fact that Sammy liked complaining and Norman was a good listener, maybe it was because Sammy’s salty attitude and Norman’s unlimited mountain of pure sass blended so well. Or maybe it was because Norman was physically incapable of talking and annoying Sammy. The only issue they had sleeping was Norman’s projector, which constantly hummed at just a low enough tone to be barely audible, but high enough to be unbelievably annoying. There wasn’t really a solution to that issue – Norman couldn’t just turn the projector off. Technically Sammy could turn it off permanently, but that was called first-degree murder, and Norman was one of the few people Sammy _didn’t_ want to murder. So Sammy wore earplugs and Norman just rolled with whatever, like the cool dude he is.

Thomas, Grant and Shawn didn’t seem to care where they slept, as long as it was relatively quiet and comfy. This wasn’t an issue when they were collapsed on the sofa. It was more of an issue when they were sprawled on the living room floor, the lights were off, it was 1am and someone wanted a midnight snack. More than a few nights of sleep had been forcefully interrupted by the sound one of the Gang made when a demon stepped on them trying to reach the fridge. Ever since the studio, the three men had been closer, spending most of their free time together. Turns out a friendship can, in fact, be benefited by being turned into half-sentient monsters for 30 years, with the only thing keeping their sanity loosely intact was the hope of seeing each other again. Standard bond-building exercise. So they stuck together like ink-filled glue, united by that beautiful power known as Utter Hatred For Joey Drew.

And that left the searcher. No one was quite sure _who_ the searcher was. They couldn’t talk, couldn’t write and might not even be sentient. But hey, they were chill, and that’s all they needed to be considered part of the family. They didn’t sleep in any set location. Sometimes they puddled in the middle of a hallway. Sometimes they suddenly teleported into someone else’s room and sat in the corner, staring at them until they woke up. Occasionally Henry would go to wash the dishes, only to find the searcher curled up in the sink, letting out soft gurgling snores. What a cutie-pie. A cutie-pie made from the tortured soul of an innocent person, but a cutie-pie no less. Of course, the searcher was evicted from its sink bed .2 seconds after Henry found them and unceremoniously dropped on the floor, but they didn’t mind. Probably. It was hard to tell, considering its two ways of expressing emotion was blank staring and waving their arms around. Joey swore he’d seen them flip him off once, but everyone ignored that claim because he’s Joey, and even if it did happen it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

With a group of people so different, and at least one of them legally insane, you wouldn’t expect many quiet moments. And you would be right in assuming there weren’t many, but wrong in assuming there were none. Even people as salty as Sammy can enjoy parts of life without complaining. Even people as chill as Norman can put some energy into interactions. Even people as rowdy as Thomas, Grant and Shawn can quiet down a bit. Even people as prideful as Susie and Allison can really appreciate others achievements. Even people as outgoing as Wally can draw back a bit and enjoy the friends they have. Even people as introverted as Henry can come out of their comfort zones a bit to enjoy time with friends. And maybe, just maybe, people as messed up as Joey can learn to consider others.

…

Nah.


	6. Midnight Melodies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I'm not too happy with this chapter and it's a bit short but eh, it's not super bad. Anyways, this'll be the last update until   
> chp4 comes out. Hopefully I'll find a way to lazily shove in any new characters without too much hassle. Also, this chapter is inspired by one of LordTraco's comments. Enjoy!
> 
> As always, I'm open to suggestions for general BatIM stories and future MiaRT chapters.

Music was nice. That was a definite fact. No one disliked music. They can dislike a certain genre - classical, rock, that one type that makes your head hurt and dark shapes dance along the far edges of your vision, you know the one - but no one dislikes music in general.

People do, however, start to hate music when it’s past midnight and people are _trying_ to _sleep_.

The piano music drifting through the house would be nice background music at any other time of day, but it was night and it really isn’t background music if it drowns out all other sounds. The piece being played was soft and jazzy and seemed never-ending, one melody seamlessly blending into the next. It was beautiful, almost ethereal, and entirely unwanted.

There was an unspoken question hovering between the non-piano-playing residents of the house: who was going to play the role of every dad in a horror movie and go investigate the midnight jazz. Eventually, without any spoken words or even an interaction between them, Henry was chosen. Because why not, he’s always the one chosen. He’d already lived through one horror movie, what’s one more? Henry himself wasn’t exactly pleased but, at the same time, hadn’t been expecting any other outcome.

Making his way through the living room was proving to be a challenge, as Thomas, Grant and Shawn – still somehow asleep – had chosen that night to lie as sprawled out as humanly/demonly possible. Henry made it across without too much incident, though at one point he had stepped on the wire connecting Thomas’ head to his body. Evidently, he couldn’t actually feel anything there, as he just grumbled in his sleep and rolled over.

The source of the music turned out to be a small room off the side of the house. It was an extension Henry’d gotten years ago, that had since been overtaken with random clutter and knick-knacks, items found over the years that weren’t particularly useful but didn’t deserve to be thrown away. One of these unused treasures was an old piano, a spur of the moment purchase Henry had never used since getting it tuned. It was getting its use now, however; Sammy was seated in front of the yellowing keys, enthusiastically playing out a particularly jazzy tune. That didn’t really surprise him. What did surprise him was the other person in the room, Norman. He was…well, singing wasn’t the right word. Static-ing? Whatever noise he was making, it followed the tune pretty well, which was odd, as Norman’s hearing wasn’t great. He wasn’t entirely deaf, but some higher pitched sounds just didn’t register.

Well. This sure was a situation. On one hand, people were trying to sleep, the music was an obstacle between them and sleep, therefore the music should be gone ASAP. On the other hand, this was the closest Sammy and Norman would probably get to fully enjoying their existence, and Henry didn’t want to take that away from them. But Joey wouldn’t get to sleep with the music still playing. But Joey didn’t sleep anyways, so what’s the point? But Alice and Wally would get grumpy, and when Wally’s grumpy everyone feels awkward and kinda sad! But Norman was always making people feel awkward and sad, so why not let him have this! But Shawn Grant and Thomas will hate him! But they hate everyone anyways!

At this point, Sammy and Norman had noticed Henry’s silent mental breakdown and stopped playing, staring in slight concern at his completely blank expression. This sort of situation happened occasionally, when Henry was faced with a difficult decision he tended to retreat into his own mind, a bit.

“Heeeennnrrryyy?” Sammy waved a hand in front of Henry’s face. “Are you…with us?” Henry blinked, shuddered a bit and partly returned to reality.   
“Sammy? How long have I been standing here?”  
“5 minutes, at most. Not as long as last time.”  
“…Ah. Ok.” Henry leaned over to look past Sammy, at Norman. The projectionist had gone back to humming/staticing a tuneless melody and swinging his legs back and forth. The table he was sitting on creaked ominously under Norman’s weight.

Henry sighed. “Guys, um, can you just…not do this right now? Please?” Sammy looked immensely confused. “It’s just – look, you two like music, you’re probably dating by now, but please. We’re all trying to sleep. You have no idea what Joey's like when he’s kept awake. _The things I’ve heard…_ ” Henry shuddered again and rubbed his head. “Anyways, just, _please_. Stop jazzing.”

A few seconds of silence. For a few seconds, Henry got the tiniest glimmer of hope that maybe, for once in his life, he could get back to bed.

Then the table Norman was sitting on collapsed.

The resulting screech echoed throughout the entire house, the few inhabitants still asleep were rudely awoken, and a few miles away a woman woke up in a cold sweat, with nothing but a staticky echo left over from her dream.

“I…fine.” Henry sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands. “Fine! Let’s just have a big, midnight party.”  
“ **Did someone say party?!** ” Joey burst into the room carrying the searcher and tripped over Henry. By this point, Henry had basically gone comatose and didn’t respond.

And thus there was a midnight party. The casualty rate was, fortunately, zero, but Wally went missing for two days and Henry was traumatised for at least a month.

Maybe looking into therapy would be a possibility?


	7. Damn Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, Chapter 4 really messed everything up for this fic, didn't it? Sooo...trying a certain direction with it, I'd really appreciate feedback! Should I continue with this sorta thing, or just put all the focus on comedy?
> 
> Enjoy!

‘ _Henry…why are you here?_ ’

Henry grunted and turned over in his sleep, muttering a quiet “Dunno…”.

‘ _We’re all dying to find out!_ ’

Joey, who hadn’t been asleep in the first place, sat up straight to stare at his friend. He was joined by the searcher, who was also an expert in the art of creepily watching people while they sleep. Both were regular partakers in the old ‘stare at Henry having a nightmare’ activity, and so could tell that something was…off. Not bad, per say, but off.

‘ _Meet the new and improved Boris!_ ’

This was, apparently, the breaking point for Henry as he jerked bolt upright, to stare at Joey and the searcher. The room was oddly tense for a moment, as Henry recovered from his nightmare by ignoring everything that’d happened in it and Joey kept staring. In the darkness Joey could barely see his friend’s face, but he could kind of make out confusion and a whole lot of fear.

“Henry? You okay?”  
“…How long have you been watching me sleep?”

Joey took a glance at the clock on the wall (a Bendy clock, of course, because Joey had stolen approximately 10 of them to hang around Henry’s house. Without Henry’s permission) and looked off into space for a moment, like he was calculating some sum. After about 5 minutes of absolute silence, Joey finally gave an answer. “All night!”

However tired Henry was before that revelation, he looked ten times more after being told a demon had been staring at him having a nightmare. All. Night.

“Right…Joey, could you maybe…not do that? At all?”  
“Why?”

Before he could educate Joey on why people generally don’t like to be stared at in their sleep, the searcher disappeared into an ink puddle and reappeared on Henry’s pillow, seemingly set on comforting Henry. That would’ve been nice if the searcher was at all good at comforting people, but as it was, their only method to cheer a dude up was to lie on them. For whatever reason, Henry was feeling less that comforted.

“…Henry, do you wanna talk ‘bout your nightmare?” Joey spoke up, once again proving that 30 years in a studio really chips away at one’s social skills.

“No. Why would I…” He began to argue but realised quickly that, in true Joey fashion, the demon wouldn’t shut up until he got an answer. “…Okay, fine.” Maybe his therapist had been right about the whole ‘stop bottling all your emotions and traumas up’ thing.

“Wasn’t too bad, just…I was back in the studio. Things were crap, I was miserable, it was just a regular bad dream.”  
“Mhmmmm…” Joey’s grin grew wider. “Henry~ You ain’t tellin’ me the whole thing!”

Henry glared at Joey.

“Remind me again why you want me to talk about this?”  
“Cause I’m your friend! Remember! Best buddies forever? I told ya bout my nightmares back in college, now you gotta tell me yours!”

…He couldn’t argue with that one. Back when they were animation students (a time so hellish it rivalled the time spent in the studio, a literal hell) Henry had gotten Joey through an innumerable number of nights, since Joey used to suffer from sleep paralysis.

“ _Fine._ It was…really, really different from what actually happened. There were weird ink people, like Sammy but actually tolerable to be around, Alice had gone even more insane, and, uh…” He paused for a second, giving a slight shudder. “And Norman died. Got his head ripped off by…by you, actually.” The ever-present grin didn’t falter. “And there was this big carousel, and a haunted house, and…” Henry’s voice shook slightly. “And Boris died and Alice died and everyone died and that’s why I’m a little shaken, okay Joey? Now can I please get back to bed?”  
“…Yea, you can get back to sleep now, I’m not gonna bother you more. Sounds like that was one hell of a dream though, we’re lucky that sorta stuff didn’t actually happen!”

Something about the tone of his voice was unnerving but Henry was too tired to care. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, the searcher still lying on him. Joey continued looking at him for another hour or so before picking up the searcher, much to the inky creature’s dismay. Now, where would be a good place to talk? Not the living room, that would just make the Gang angry at him. The piano room? No, ever since Henry had gotten it soundproofed Sammy and Norman had started hanging out there even more. The kitchen then? Yeah, then he could get a midnight (well, 3 in the morning) snack!

Fortunately, the kitchen was empty. Joey plopped the searcher down in a seat, then sat down himself. He sighed.

“Jack, I dunno how long I can keep this schtick up. Those damn nightmares are getting more and more specific, and I think the others are startin’ to get suspicious too. I don’t wanna give it another boost, usin’ that amount of energy’ll hit me like a train!” The searcher didn’t respond, and Joey’s grin grew.   
“Yeah, maybe you’re onto something! Thanks for helpin’ buddy, you’re always super easy to talk to!”

The demon limped over to the fridge and hunted around for some bacon soup. Finding none, he settled for just strips of bacon and, somehow without using a mouth, wolfed them down. He chucked one at the searcher, hitting the creature in the face, and giggled.

“Hey, if you keep this good behaviour stuff up, I might try an’ see if any of your memories can be rescued too!”

The searcher didn’t respond, and Joey giggled some more.

 


	8. Road...Trip...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Long time no upload. To be honest, I've been wanting to update this for a while but I completely lost my motivation for it...let's see if this is still as good.

The universe had probably given up at this point.

This was the theory Henry had been mulling over for the past seven hours or so, because in a seven hour car ride I-Spy gets boring after the first 50 times, and what else was there to do other than think about existentialism. Whoever or whatever was in charge of the universe – Henry wasn’t particularly religious, especially after that whole demonic studio thing happened – had just given up one day. They had glanced at Joey Drew Studios, seen Mr Drew himself summon gods knows what and figured that now would be a great time to take a break, relax, find a new hobby besides watching over an uncaring void.

Henry wished he could do the same.

Instead it was 8 am in the morning, he’d been driving since 1 am, and Sammy wasn’t getting the message that his ‘20s Jazz Greatest Hits’ cassette wasn’t all that great on repeat. Oh sure, Norman was whirring along because the two stuck together like ink and more ink. And Joey was singing along to every song, even the instrumentals, because making people wish they weren’t there was a speciality of his. The searcher had been trying to strangle Joey for the past 3 out of 7 hours but by God, that was not stopping him.

Wally, Alice and the Butcher pricks had been left at home. Well, left at home wasn’t the right term. It was more barricaded themselves up in the attic and swore they would return to the inky abyss before they’d go on a road trip with that ‘satan-summoning shitstain’. Henry would have done the same, but the others were dead set on going on this road trip and he was the only one who could legally drive anymore.

Where were they heading to? That was a good question. One Henry would sell the remainder of his soul to know, as Joey still hadn’t told him where the hell they were going. If he had to take a guess, it’d be either Walt Disney’s grave or some sort of summoning site for an Ancient God that Joey wanted to say hi to.

Why were Sammy, Norman and the searcher here? Another great question that Henry wouldn’t be able to answer. Boredom perhaps? Staying inside all day was probably dull when your best friend is also not exactly mentally there, you run out of conversation topics. So they’d ended up where every employee had once gone when at the pinnacle of desperation and exhaustion; listening to Joey Drew.

“ **Turn here! TURN HERE!** ”

Joey’s sudden screaming jerked Henry out of his existential dread. He spun the steering wheel way too far, so his elbow managed to brush up against Joey and ruin the arm of his sweater, and the car swerved into a small turning on the road. Norman screamed. Sammy yelled. This wasn’t really out of the ordinary.

The turning led down something which could have been considered a road 20 years ago. Now it was a few scraps of tarmac held together by dust and broken dreams. For the 20th time Henry wished the car had actual suspension. The further they went down the road the more dread loomed over him – this place looked like a dump. Not an untidy place, an actual dump. Scrap metal everything, peeled  paint, he was pretty sure he saw a rabid racoon scrabble into some metal piping.

“Uh….Joey? Hate to ask this again, but…where the hell are we?”  
“ **I was waitin’ for you to ask that!** ” Henry had already asked the question once every 30 minutes in the trip, but okay, continue. “ **Cause I wanted to go somewhere super special for once, ‘stead of bein’ holed up in that drab house!** ”  
“…Ignoring you insulting my house…could you actually tell me where we are? Without the backstory?”  
“ **Right, right. We’re at…** ”

Maybe there was something left controlling this universe. How else would the timing be that perfect, that as Joey said the name the place swept into view like the clouds of the apocalypse.

“ **A defunct! Theme park!** ”

“Oh god…” Why. Why in the hell. Who would think this was a good idea? Joey was going to make them ride the broken-down rollercoaster, he knew it, oh god this would be the day he’d die. Either through falling, tetanus, rabies, general heart attack…

“Joey! Why the hell did you bring us here? You know how I feel about theme par-“  
“ **…What?** ” Now that was confusing.  
“…What?”  
“ **You were saying something about you and theme parks? That you don’t like theme parks?** ”

Henry paused for a moment and stared at Joey.  
“…No? No, I didn’t say that. I don’t think…?”

Everyone was silent. I mean, for Norman that was usual, but for everyone else it was an awkward moment bordering on meta.

“ **Ah well! I’m sure you’ll forget all bout that soon?** ”

“About…what…”

The universe flickered out for a moment, then stabilised.

“Joey! Why the hell did you bring us here?”

And, just like a cartoon should proceed, shenanigans commenced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amount of feedback is basically what's going to determine whether I write more of this or leave it, so comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


End file.
